


Running

by WeatherEye1



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-13
Updated: 2013-08-12
Packaged: 2017-12-23 07:56:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/923824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WeatherEye1/pseuds/WeatherEye1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The adventures of an adolescent Time Lord who somehow managed to escape the Time War in the family TARDIS.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Callista

She awakes to smoke, alarms wailing, lights flashing. Her father's beautiful Type 95 is making that terrible screeching, crunching noise she only makes when something is really wrong. Or Delta Phi is driving. Where are her brothers and sisters? Where is her father?

"FUCK FUCK FUCK WANK CUNT BOLLOCKS" the TARDIS crunches in protest as Callista hops around, thumb jammed in her mouth, swearing with words an adolescent Time Lord should most definitely not know. She throws a lever and the crunching abates, although a small warning light begins to flash, triggering another round of violent curses. Callista tries twisting knobs, punching buttons and screaming at the Type 95 to do what she wants. Finally, after the TARDIS makes some more worrying noises, they land. The pilot has no idea where they are, and the TARDIS isn't telling her anything. Mostly it's trying to get her to leave so it can reboot in peace.

"Fine. If I die out there it's your fault. You're supposed to be cleverer than this. You're supposed to listen to me and do as I say. Not treat me like I'm 10 years old and play motherfucking nursemaid – OW! OK I'm going, I'm leaving." Callista gives the console a final, resentful look and heads out the door, slamming it on the way.

It's raining. The grass is very green, which is weirdly common for this part of the universe. Looking back at the TARDIS, Callista heaves a sigh of relief that the chameleon circuits are still operational. She's not quite sure what it's meant to be, this large white thing with wheels and windows and a little door. It has floral curtains in the windows. At least it blends it, there must be hundreds all lined up in this field. Vaguely she wonders how she will tell it apart from the rest and the TARDIS responds by putting up a little flag with her family coat of arms on it. Callista can't help but laugh, it seems so… ridiculous.

Suddenly, a door on a box opposite her bangs open and discharges two grubby, unkempt human children. They barely give Callista a glance before tearing off towards some distant buildings. So, a human planet then. Well that makes life easier. Humans don't tend to eat people that look like them. On the other hand, they could try and sacrifice her. Callista shudders at the memory.

An older human, female by the look of it, wanders out of the box after the children. It sighs, then notices Callista standing there, staring. It jumps, looking rather alarmed.

"Oh bloody hell" Callista keeps looking at it, then decides to smile. Humans seem to like that. In the back of her mind she clocks the language as Earth, English. So she's on Earth, Callista's actually heard of this planet. It's funny, she didn't think she was anywhere near the Milky Way.

"Sorry love" the human says, disturbing Callista's reverie, "You gave me shock is all. Didn't realise anyone had taken that caravan space." Caravan? The white box, of course. Callista should probably say something, humans aren't very good when you don't talk to them.

"It's okay, I… I haven't been here long." She smiles again. Humans are kind of hard to deal with, they see a lot that isn't there and more that is.

"Aww, arrive this morning did you? Bring the rain with you?" Callista looks slightly stricken, the TARDIS can't be so badly broken that it's screwing with the weather patterns can it? The human notices and softens its expression "I didn't mean anything by it love, weather's not your fault. You here with you parents?" Oh crap, a question. That she has to answer. Credibly. Otherwise there will be interfering.

"No. No… Here with my…" She looks back to the TARDIS, trying to think of a suitably cruel title for it "Godmother. Yes, my godmother. She's sleeping, long journey and all." Through her empathic link with the Type 95 Callista can sense the displeasure. There, take that.

"Oh that's nice. Well, I hope you enjoy Norfolk love, you and your godmother. Got to be off, see where those boys of mine have got to." With that, the human wanders off in the general direction of its offspring, looking a little vague around the edges. Sometimes being around the psychic circuits of a TARDIS can do that to lesser life forms.

Norfolk? Where's that when it's at home? Callista pulls out her palm unit and enters in the relevant information. It takes a little while to process, not a particularly good sign, but the TARDIS is repairing itself so not really much of a surprise. She decides to wander around whilst the computer thinks quietly to itself. It's a big field, so Callista heads off toward the farthest end from her current location. All she can see there is a fence and some sky, but it's better than standing around like an Ataxian Lemon.

She sees more humans out and about round their… caravans was it? They smile, some say hello. Politeness. She is polite back. They don't seem to mind the rain all that much; actually, they seem fairly resigned to it. That's more than a little sad; they're not an amphibious or aquatic species after all. Maybe they'll evolve soon, to make use of it. They're always evolving, humans.

At the fence the land abruptly ends and gives way to water, some hundreds of metres below. The sea. The palm unit beeps. Apparently Norfolk is in England. It's around 1998 AD, late summer. The rain is normal but will give way to light winds and sunshine in a few hours. The closest settlement is called Hunstanton, a few miles south. This place is the Windy Cliffs Camping and Caravan site. Well then. This is the Earth she starting learning about in prep school, before the war. This is the Earth that HE loves. It feels a little more like destiny that Callista is here now. Broken TARDIS and the place that HE would most likely be, the only person in the Universe that could help her fix it. The last person Callista would ever want to talk to or solicit help from. Fuck. More than ever she wishes for her brothers and father, but they are locked away, out of reach. All because of HIM. She wants to cry.

The palm unit beeps again. This time it's telling her that the TARDIS will be operational in around one Earth day. Even then it will only be able to make journeys around this solar system. The Intergalactic Buffer is completely fried. Great, stuck in the Sol System until humans come up with intergalactic stabilisation technology. The idea of hopping forwards until they manage it is really, really boring. Well, it's that or look for HIM. Hopping suddenly sounds fun.

She's halfway back to the TARDIS when she realises that she still has to wait a while to get going. Callista thinks something uncharitable about humans and then steels herself. This is going to require mingling. With the natives. Ugh. Heading towards the buildings that the humans seem to gravitate towards appears to be a decent course of action. There's nothing else to do anyway.

The first construction contains showers, toilets and laundry machines. Basic, but necessary, Callista wouldn't put much effort into decorating them either. The smell though… Next there is a room with books, some kind of transmission device, and boxes of things that appear to be primitive games. There's a chess set but it doesn't look like it's wired up. Callista makes a mental note to return to the books if the rest of the settlement has nothing else to offer. Round a corner from the entertainment room is a little shop. There are quaint little ornaments, postcards, inflatable beach implements and ice cream. These small shops are the same throughout the universe, only the pictures on the postcards change. Callista has been to hundreds of them.

The car park is a slight surprise, but then the lessons come back to her, and Callista almost laughs out loud at the idea of a combustion engine. Humans riding little explosions, how odd. More humans, but these ones look as if they would correlate with her physiologically. Adolescents. They regard Callista with suspicion. Their ages would be between 12 and 20. Young, even for humans. One of them smiles, Callista smiles back. To the west of the car park there are steps, leading down the cliff. With another glance at the adolescents, who are studiously ignoring her, Callista makes for the steps.

They're slippy and slightly green, and no wonder humans don't get very far with inventing, because they must certainly break their necks in a place like this. Surely they have lifts? Electricity? Small children barrel past, seemingly oblivious to the perils of the staircase. Time and Space, even Klum wasn't this bad. She considers running back to the little room with the books, but then the stubbornness kicks in. She doesn't want to walk back past the adolescents so quickly, they will laugh. It shouldn't matter, but it does. Callista may be a highly evolved form of life, but she's a teenaged form of life. She scoots down the rest of the stairs, on her bottom like an infant, but makes it unscathed.

The sand is a greyish colour, not like Valtos Four where it glitters in all the colours of the spectrum. Callista thinks wistfully of Valtos Four and the little café on Moonrise Beach with the scones. It doesn't rain there, the mists take care of the necessary hydration. The sea is grey too, and rough, and full of seals. The seals are hunting and playing and Callista feels a little bit like joining them, they're certainly making more sense than the small family of humans trying to erect some kind of windbreak so their fire won't keep going out. Callista kicks off her shoes and wades into the surf, ignoring the cold, listening to the chatter of the gulls. The seals eye her with curiosity, but then dismiss her, preferring their game.

The rain eases off, giving way to a patchy, blue sky. This would be the sunny afternoon then. Callista finds that the beach is actually quite pleasant in the sunshine, everything looks a little less grey. More humans trickle down the staircase with blankets and parasols and towels. Some have picnics, and the ones with the fire are roasting meat. Suddenly Callista realises that she's hungry, she last ate several lifetimes away. There's food in the TARDIS but it doesn't really want visitors right now. Being a Time Lord has perks, but not the kind that conjures money out of empty air. Time and Space that food smells good.

Shoes are pulled back on, despite sand, and after struggling back up the beach Callista is once again contemplating the stairway to hell. Most of it is still in shadow so no chance the wet patches will have dried. It might even be worse. Still, no other way back up. She is about the start climb when down come the adolescents from the car park, hands full of plastic bags which appear to be full of packets and cans. Oh good, more food, and it brought humans to witness her fall spectacularly onto the beach and regenerate into a small, embarrassed mess . The teenagers wander past her, looking curious. One of them peels off from the group. He's tall, his skin is the colour of a good cup of tea and his dark hair curls around the temples. She doesn't know why, but suddenly she is aware of male and female, and this one is definitely male.

"Er… Hi." He holds out a hand. Callista regards it suspiciously, before shaking it.

"Hello" Callista feels very odd, and small, and not human. Her voice sounds uncertain, somewhat confrontational. She can't smile.

"I'm Greg… the others thought… well, listen. We all know it's a bit shit here, and we've all been dragged down by our parents, and you look like you could use the company so d'you feel like having a drink with us? We've got crisps, and coke if you don't want beer. You don't have to, we won't be offended, you just looked lonely is all and I'm being an idiot so I'll shut up now" He keeps looking at her like she might bite him.

"Crisps? Alright then. I'm Callis… Cally." She smiles at him. Greg relaxes and leads her back to the group, makes the introductions and sits her down with a bag of crisps. The females are Gemma, Hannah and Annie. The males are Greg, Michael, Chris and Jamie. They're a mixture of ages, between fourteen (Jamie) and seventeen (Greg). Callista doesn't even remember being seventeen. She would have been tiny. There is the general feeling of all being in this together, and they may as well make the most of it. Callista munches crisps and listens to them talk about music they all like and bitch about their parents and various siblings. They don't seem to need her to talk, Hannah isn't saying much either. She's decided to tell them that she's sixteen, it roughly corresponds, she is at the same developmental level as a human sixteen year old.

The afternoon wanders on and Greg breaks out a small, disposable fireplace. He cooks burgers and sausages and hands them round. Callista tries to decline, but is told that she can buy the next lot if she feels that bad about it. Greg's parents have given him a massive holiday allowance for doing well in exams, so he can afford it. The burgers aren't properly cooked, but they're delicious and her digestive system can take it. Time Lords are tough beasts after all. Chris has stolen some cider from his older sister and passes it round. It fizzes on Callista's tongue and the bubbles seem to go to her brain. Alcohol, she's never actually tried it before. For all the Jidoon treat her like a delinquent when they encounter each other, Callista has never actually done anything remotely like this.

It grows cold and Gemma takes Michael to find some wood for a bonfire. The others smirk.

"Well, I reckon Gemma will find some wood, but she won't burn it." They laugh, and Callista is confused. Greg smiles at her.

"Mike and Gem have been at it like rabbits since they met." More confusion "They're… uh… having a lot of sex" Callista goes pink. Everyone laughs. Hannah mutters something about a poor little innocent thing and throws a packet of sweets at her. Hiding behind her hair, Callista eats sweets and listens, psychically, to them. Annie desires Hannah. Hannah desires Annie, but they don't appear to have told one another. There is a fizzle of awkwardness between them, too much unsaid. Jamie is worrying about something. Chris is intoxicated and full of desire for Hannah and that will not go well. With some surprise, Callista realises that Greg is focusing all his attention on her. She flushes harder beneath her hair as he wonders what her skin would feel like. So much desire in so little space.

Greg walks casually around the dying fire cooking thing and sits next to her. Callista looks up at him through the veil of her hair. It's silly, this shouldn't matter to her. He's human, it's actually a little perverse to be having these feelings. Time Lords do of course, but they keep it under wraps. It's something you're taught to control because otherwise things get messed up and you can't do your job. Just look at the humans, they can't get anything done because they're constantly distracted by desire.

"Hey, I'm sorry. Didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable." He puts a hand on her shoulder.

"It's fine, really. I'm being… silly I guess. I don't really socialise much. Usually it's just me and the… my godmother, travelling, so I…" Babbling, good, that will most certainly help things. The hand, the physical contact, has amplified the psychic link. Her empathic abilities kick in and suddenly her stomach is full of angry vespaforms and her breath catches. Do they feel like this all the time?

The palm unit beeps from Callista's pocket, worrying about her heart rate.

Gregory Johannson, Greg, is seventeen years old. He loves physics, Oasis and girls. Right now, on this miserable camping holiday, he is falling in love with an alien decades older than himself. Cally. She isn't like anyone else he's ever met. She doesn't move like the girls in school, she's confident and settled into her skin. Her face isn't caked in make-up or spots and her eyes. Oh god her eyes. It's like he can see stars in them, nebulas, everything. When she looks at him he sees the universe. Then, when she meets his eyes and blushes, it's as if she knows exactly what he's thinking. Greg can harldly concentrate on being cool. When he puts his hand on her shoulder she leans in, and something goes beep in her pocket.

"Sorry… erm… mobile ph… pager. I'll just…" The girl, Cally, stands up abruptly and wanders off fiddling with something from her pocket. A pager. He's never met anyone who actually owns a pager before. Greg's reverie is interrupted by Michael and Gemma wandering back into his line of sight. They both have bundles of driftwood under their arms and only look slightly more ruffled than when they left. Cally stops fiddling with her pager and helps with the fire. Soon enough they are all huddled round a crackling, green blaze laughing and joking. Somehow Greg finds the courage to put an arm around his strange new friend and she cuddles in, her hair tickling against his neck.

The night wears on and Greg finds that Cally loves astro-physics just as much as he does. She knows so much, more than anyone he's ever spoken to before. Her eyes burn into his as she explains a concept that he's fairly sure even NASA haven't come up with yet. Somewhere along the way Hannah and Annie disappear. Chris has passed out and Jamie makes his excuses and wanders back to his caravan. Around 3am Greg looks up to find that Michael and Gemma have also dematerialised and it's only him, Cally and a snoring Chris left around their fire.

Callista barely knows what she's doing when she pulls Greg back to face her and kisses him. All night she's been becoming more and more lost in the experience of him. His love for space makes him seem out of place on Earth. He was meant to born on Gallifrey, of this she is completely certain, his consciousness must have become lost somehow and landed on this odd little planet. She's probably telling him far too much but it's beautiful how he swallows every concept and understands it almost immediately.

His lips are odd, damp and soft, but good and Callista wants more. Stopping to breathe is a pain. Greg's teeth graze her mouth and she moans, almost surprised when he echoes her. There is something so beautifully selfish about these feelings and Callista almost feels guilty until she remembers that he has them too, and he's responding, so it feels good for both of them and they can both be selfish. Suddenly the kisses aren't enough, Greg's mouth is such a small part of his body, and Callista wants to see what else will feel good to kiss. Clumsily making the journey across his jaw, she works her way down his neck to the top of his jumper. The wool is in the way and Callista tugs, making little noises of frustration.

He can't quite believe this, none of the girls from school or the park have ever been quite so into Greg as Cally is. It's like she doesn't feel shame, or self-consciousness, she doesn't seem to be aware that most people would be shocked by how quickly she's giving it up. There's no time to even think about how he won't complain though, as she's tugging his jumper up over his head, taking the shirt with it, and tracing hot lines over his shoulders and chest with her lips. All at once Greg is on his back in the sand, arms pinned to his sides, as she kisses and nibbles her way all over his stomach. He's on fire, she's burning him. All the while she's making these little growling, moaning noises and Greg finds that he's answering her with little noises of his own. Not once in his short history with women has Greg ever made noises. Or had them made at him. He's always been told to be quiet, been afraid of being discovered, felt ashamed for wanting what he wants.

Callista doesn't care that she's feeding the fire. With every wave of desire from Greg, her own builds and crests back into him, a cycle that never ends. There must be a crest, an end to this delicious agony, but all she can feel is this deep, thudding song, demanding fulfilment. Her clothes become too warm, too limiting, constricting, and she rips off her jacket and rips her shirt in the effort to be free of it. In her haste, Callista has freed Greg's hands and they move to her breasts. Tentative at first, he gains encouragement from her moans and begins to knead and massage them as she arches above him. Why has Callista never done this before? It feels so damn good. Everything about it is beautiful and intoxicating. Greg's mouth finds hers again and they roll together, skin on skin, trying to devour one another.

Trousers, they are a problem. They have this thought as one, so connected now, through chemicals, psychic and empathic links, deeper things that Callista would know to avoid if she'd ever been to school on Gallifrey. They help each other escape the unnecessary and irritating bindings of jeans and cords respectively. Greg slips a finger between Callista's legs and up inside and she almost gives in to the waves right there and then, except for the knowledge that there is something better. Her hand finds the better thing, so hard that it hurts, and rubs it, almost in vengeance. To pleasure one another gives each pleasure and for a few moments they are lost in these touches, still except for their harsh breathing. Then Greg begins to move his finger again, soliciting harsh gasps from Callista as she grips his shaft harder in return.

At some unknown signal it becomes too much and he climbs between her legs. In the predawn light they gaze into one another's eyes as Greg guides himself inside her, slowly at first, but then gaining momentum. Callista cannot move for the sheer, agonizing, beautiful, massive feeling. There cannot be anything better than this. She shifts and brings her legs up around his back to hold him to her for just a moment before he begins thrusting. With each push their cries become louder, harsher, more frantic. Greg pushes one of Callista's hands down to her clitoris, urging her to rub, to bring herself off with him. It doesn't need words, she understands. The come, together, and collapse into the sand.

The sun finds them intertwined, dazed, with the seals looking on curiously. All too soon they are interrupted by the calling of the gulls and the early morning cold. They pull clothes back on, and check that Chris is still breathing. Noticing the sticky mess on Callista's thighs Greg begins to panic.

"Shit!"

"What's wrong?" Callista is genuinely confused, is there etiquette here she hasn't observed, something to do with semen? She was just going to dip into the sea to wash it off before putting her trousers back on but Greg is looking at it like it's going to bite him.

"We didn't use a condom. Are you…? Fuck, I'm sorry, I'm usually better at this. You caught me off guard. Oh crap." He's gone a funny colour, and seems to be trying to say something else, but Callista cuts him off.

"Oh, birth control? No, that's fine, I can't get pregnant by you" She smiles, in a way that she hopes is reassuring.

"Are you sure? Why not?" He's still panicking, he doesn't believe her. How curious.

"Because I'm…" Callista almost says "not the same species as you" but quickly remembers herself and says "On birth control. A drug. That stops it. You have those here don't you?"

"Err yeah. Sorry, just panicked. My dad would kill me if I got someone pregnant." Greg sits down and slips on his trainers. His socks have made a break for freedom, probably appropriated by gulls. Callista wanders into the sea to clean off. It's still fucking freezing but it feels good, stopping the encroaching stickiness. Greg watches her bottom as she wades out, temporarily mesmerised by the movement. She's really nothing like any other girl he has ever met. Perhaps she's an alien.

June 2002

Greg is graduating from Cambridge today. A first in Theoretic Physics with a masters placement, his parents are so very proud. He's come a long way from their cramped flat and camping holidays, and he'll go even further. Today should be vibrant and beautiful, he has his whole life ahead of him.

All he can think of is her. Where did she go?

Siblings, grandparents, aunts and uncles all come and go in a blur. They go for a meal, far too expensive for his family but they're all so happy and Greg can't ruin it by thinking about just how much it's costing them to do this. He feels so ungrateful for not concentrating on them. It's been like this on every major day of his life since the beach, every key event makes him wish for her. She should be here.

Cally.

After she'd dried off, they'd headed up the steps, and to a café across the road from the caravan park. He'd bought breakfast. They'd chatted, kissed, joked. It was so perfect. Then her pager had gone off and she'd had to leave, saying her godmother was wondering where she was, she'd see him later. They'd arranged to meet at the toilets at eleven, Greg was going to drive them somewhere. It didn't matter where, they were just going to be together. She never came. He'd searched the caravan park, the beach, the café. Hoping.

It faded, but it never quite went away, that hope. Women noticed it, and they left, and Greg never cared. His work progressed, he was the best in his year, the kid from the council estates. The tutors had such high hopes.

They are leaving the restaurant when he sees her. Same jacket, same shirt, same cords, same hair. She's running. Greg tries to call out but his voice sticks and the tides of relatives envelop him again. She's gone.

October 2010

As Greg presents his thesis he's aware of that feeling again. The loss, the sense that someone is missing from this moment. There's no title for it right now, the thesis, but it's ground-breaking. It could change the face of modern physics. It's about time travel. As Greg talks, and the great and good of the scientific world listen, he scans their faces. Seeing only approval he is about to go back to the slides when his eye catches on a familiar mop of hair. Looking down, Greg cannot allow himself to be side-tracked with these stupid hallucinations again. The paper is finished, there is a rousing applause. There is talk of prizes, and a man in a wheelchair gives him praise in an electronic monotone. Greg slips away to join a figure in the courtyard.

"I'm so sorry" She hasn't changed. Her clothes are the same. Everything. The burn from the dying embers of the fire is still on her sleeve, the hems of her trousers seem to still be damp from sea water. And here he is, Dr. Gregory Johannson, soon to be a Professor, prematurely grey, thin, sad. Old. He is struck dumb by the sight of her.

"I got lost you see, some of my circuits weren't in the right place. Finally sorted it out but I was too late, and it turns out that you're a fixed point. Who knew?" She looks at him, really looks at him now, and there's a ghost of pain in her eyes. He can't hide the anger, shock and hurt in his, because somewhere he's still seventeen and waiting for her all day in the rain.

"Your theorem, it has a name you know."

"What?" His first word to her in twelve years, and it's choked, small. Twelve years and she hasn't changed at all.

"It's called Callista's Theorem. I was named after it. Well not quite, but my parents couldn't think of anything else. It's like being called Jane Smith here."

Gregory cannot cope. He turns and walks away from her, back to the scientists, and the prizes, and the empty life.

Quietly, Callista says again

"I'm so sorry"

He doesn't hear her.


	2. First Contact

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Doctor leaves Callista a note.

Stepping out of the TARDIS and into the caravan park Callista immediately feels the change. There are fewer of the little white boxes, the distant sound of machinery and everything seems just a little bit different. Suppressing shivers, she pushes buttons on the wrist unit, looking for a date. August 2012? Fuck. Greg was waiting. How long did he wait? All day? A few hours? Perhaps she can get back, everything should be a little more settled now that the old girl has made her repairs.

Inside, the console is shiny and new. There is tea brewing on a small camping stove, powered by an even smaller nuclear battery. The TARDIS would never admit it to anyone, but the new décor might have been slightly inspired by doing repairs surrounded by caravans. Floral curtains, plumb cushions, and a lot of Formica give the impression of a 1950s English home, not that the pilot would know. All she cares about is comfort, and tea. Lots of tea. She flips leavers and pumps something that looks suspiciously like a toaster, only to be met by angry grinding and warning lights flashing all over the place. A bump, then silence. The readout on a small, black and white TV screen informs Callista that Professor Gregory David Johansson has a fixed timeline, and that certain points must not be interfered with. The message is followed by a little message from the Shadow Proclamation, stating that Gregory is protected by intergalactic law. The kettle whistles and Callista settles down over an enamel mug of New English Breakfast to think.

What she wants is to wander over to the Library and look Greg up, see what happened. However, despite the TARDIS and its flashy new interior, the intergalactic buffer is still toast. All Callista has is time, no space. Finally she decides to go for a walk to clear her head. It's 2002, the closest that she could get to Greg's timeline without breaking something. He must be around somewhere, but Callista isn't sure that she's ready to face him. Or even if she's allowed to. No, contact is off the agenda until more information is gathered. Though, if they happen to run into one another then… Well, who knows?

No one notices the girl stepping out of an outdated information kiosk. Well, no one human anyway.

From across the road two people are watching Callista from behind newspapers. Male and female, both appear human but neither are. The man's newspaper isn't even from Earth, but the woman is reading a well-worn copy of The Guardian. From 1969. Both wear fedoras although the style most definitely suits the woman better.

"Go and talk to her."

"No River, not yet. Can you imagine what she must be feeling? How she would feel if I just wandered up to her and introduced myself as the man who murdered her entire race?" His expression darkens and the woman, River, puts a hand on his arm.

"Doctor…" Her voice is quiet, but it carries a note of warning.

"I know… Has she gone yet?"

"Yes." River folds her newspaper and stows it away in a large black handbag. Her companion pulls a pen and notebook out of his jacket and scribbles a few lines on it before strolling over to the information kiosk and planting the note squarely on the door. River tapes it in place and begins to walk away before noticing that the Doctor isn't following.

"Doctor?"

"It's a type 95. Limited edition. Just look at this – "The Doctors reverie is interrupted by his wife grabbing him squarely by the collar and dragging him away, down the road, towards a blue box that should really attract more attention than it does.

Callista soon decides that Cambridge is a very pretty city. All the buildings go together nicely and the whole place practically smells of learning. The history of the place is so warm and inviting and she wonders about just waiting here for the humans to come up with the tech she needs. After just two minutes Callista sees something interesting. There are all sorts of people wandering around in black robes and silly hats. They're all young, fresh, excited. Callista wanders close to some of them, listening in to conversations and basking in their joy.

Then a sudden shock of recognition. Greg. Surrounded by people who have lent their features to him, children who share his eyes, the mother who gave him his hair. Callista freezes. She could walk straight up to him, right now, and make it better. Apologise. Then what? He's changed so much. His shoulders are broader, cheekbones more defined. He's gained several inches in height and settled into his own skin. There is an air of impenetrability about him, like nothing could move him, hurt him. She can't do it, he's grown, and she hasn't. Callista is still a child, hopeless in the face of this man who may not remember her or even care. It's all too much and she turns tail and runs back to her TARDIS, stopping short at the door. Someone has taped a note up there, with her name on it. Who could possibly know who she is? Pulling it down, Callista looks around before stepping inside.

Inside a forgotten cup of tea waits, unappetising and cold. Callista forces herself to make another before reading the note, calms her breathing and does some basic meditation exercises that she remembers from nursery school. With her new cup of tea and a packet of Silurian roach biscuits Callista sits down on a squishy, faded sofa and finally feels calm enough to open the folded paper. It simply says "October 12th, 2010. Dr. Gregory David Johansson is presenting his thesis at MIT. The Doctor". The mug of tea splashes to the floor, burning Callista's ankles and soaking the hems of her trousers. How did HE know? Why is He doing this? How long has He been watching? The Doctor. Destroyer, murderer, warrior. Even though she knows that the TARDIS is secure Callista feels incredibly unsafe. She takes off, the routine so familiar she could do it in her sleep.

In space, Callista feels somewhat safer. She considers the note. It could be a trap, but if the Doctor wanted her, surely he could have taken her when she was in Cambridge? She was only gone from the TARDIS for fifteen minutes. Why would he go to the trouble of tracking down a time when she could see Greg? On the other hand, this could be his way of choosing the battleground, making sure he had her exactly where he wanted her. Callista's hearts are still pounding out a terrible rhythm, so loud she can hear them, a reminder of who she is. A reminder of who the Doctor is and what he did to their people.

But this might be her last chance.

October 2010 – Later

The Doctor sits on a bench in a quiet corner of the MIT campus. His head in his hands, he waits. As River makes her way back across the grass, with coffee and sandwiches, she considers her husband. At this moment she can see his age weighing down on him, the burden of his actions. When they dropped off Amy and Rory he was all smiles and promises. When they were gone, he slumped. He'd wanted to tell them, River knew that much, but he hadn't dared even admit to himself that there might be another of his kind. This wasn't an adventure, this was… River wasn't sure what, but it was hurting him, and her Doctor would not allow himself to expose them to his pain. Of course, his wife was a different matter. Not that they were married yet, in his timeline. He didn't even know who she was.

The Doctor looks up, straight at River, and gives her a tired smile.

"What are you thinking, Doctor Song?" She hands him a coffee, and considers her words carefully.

"I was thinking that you're looking your age my love."

"Charming. Did you see Gregory home safe?" Tasting his coffee, the Doctor grimaces and empties three sachets of sugar into the steaming cup. Seeing River wrinkle her nose, he adds a fourth sachet.

"Yes, he's home. I told him I was secret service, sent to escort him home. I don't think he really cared. Ugh, how can you ruin good coffee like that" River takes a sip of her own "Okay, mediocre coffee, but still. This regeneration has been no good for your sweet tooth. Pass me a sandwich"

They eat in silence, enjoying the night. When he's finished, the Doctor takes Rivers hand in his, and squeezes tightly.

"It's time I took you back. Way past your bedtime."

"If you're sure…?" A small smile tweaks the corners of Rivers mouth and the Doctor stares pointedly at her eyes. He nods, and they wander towards the blue box, still hand in hand.


	3. John Smith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which that sneaky bastard infiltrates Callista's TARDIS and eats her biscuits.

These are not the androids you are looking for

In hindsight, it had been ridiculous to assume that there would be a buffer in this warehouse. No official seals, not really the right time period and all the humans that went in and never came out again. Catching her breath, Callista finally finds the time to take these factors into account, and decides that she has been a fool. Her head just hasn't been in the right place since saying goodbye to Greg. The palm unit starts to beep in an agitated way and Callista sees that, on the readout, several little red dots are closing in on her green one. Then the terrible clanking and hissing noise of metallic feet becomes audible from down the corridor. Darting from her hiding place, she begins to run once more. If the map her TARDIS had found is correct, there should be a maintenance hatchway round the next bend.

"DELETE"

Callista runs faster, finding the circular plate set into the concrete floor, she starts trying to prise it up. It's really, bloody heavy but suddenly, just as a weapon discharges over her head, it shifts and rises and a surprised looking face greets Callista's agitated one. Big chin, messy hair. Bow tie. Human. It looks past her down the corridor to where the big metal feet are marching onwards.

"DELETE"

Callista gets over her momentary shock and hauls the maintenance cover free, motioning for the human to move so she can get down the tunnel. It doesn't need to be told twice and quickly descends with Callista almost stepping on its fingers in her haste to escape. Pulling the hatch back over the hole leaves them in darkness, both hurrying down the ladder. At the bottom there's no time for questions as Callista begins running again and the human follows her. That's probably for the best. If it escaped conversion then she's not going to leave it here to die. Or worse. Luckily the way is clear back to the TARDIS which, mercifully, is just as Callista left it. In fact, its impression of a storage locker is so good that Callista tries the key in several different ones before she hits home. Pulling the human in after her, she locks the door and begins the launch sequence.

"Oh my it's…" The human trails off in wonderment and Callista remembers that most species aren't used to this kind of technology.

"Bigger on the inside yes. Just sit somewhere and be quiet" She doesn't mean to snap but the encounter with the cybermen has her badly shaken. They've always been terrifying to her, right from the newscasts back on Gallifrey. The human sits on her very comfy sofa and sinks into it slightly, still examining the TARDIS interior with a slight smile on its face.

"I was going to say caravan." It… No, not an it, a he. Callista is getting better at this gender thing. He doesn't look as shocked as other lifeforms have been when they've ended up here. It doesn't happen often and Callista doesn't like doing it, but it's sometimes necessary.

"What?" She slumps into a chair, the TARDIS now in flight, she can calm down.

"It's a caravan." Callista takes a moment to look around. Could this be what the insides of the little white boxes looked like? It would make sense, the TARDIS did reboot whilst looking like one.

"I… I suppose so. Yes. Do you… have a name?" Suddenly Callista is painfully aware that there is a human in her TARDIS, looking at her things, who may never even have conceived of the idea of aliens in his entire, painfully short, life. She knows that they're very good at coping with things, humans, that their minds will protect them. Perhaps if she just carries on as normal Callista can stop this one from breaking itself. Or her. Or anything else.

"I do. Have a name." The human looks as if he's thinking very hard and Callista gets a little worried that he may be damaged in some capacity. "John Smith." Oh good, well at least he remembers his name. Very generic that one, if Callista has her history right. She supposes that would make it easier to remember. "And you are?" Her turn. She decides not to lie this time, he's already privy to her biggest secret.

"Callista." Looking down, she finds her hands shaking and freezing cold. Her clothes are soaked in sweat and tears are pricking at her eyes. She is nowhere near calm. The scrutiny of the human becomes too much and she stands. Her hearts are thudding desperately at her chest, as if trying to escape.

"I have to go and change. There are biscuits in that cupboard. Don't touch the console. Back in a minute" and she runs deeper in to the TARDIS.

John Smith waits a few moments to make sure Callista is gone before he stands. His first priority is getting the kettle on and making her a nice cup of tea. To his delight, the tea is kept exactly where he himself would keep it, so he puts the pot on to boil. Then, removing his jacket and straightening his bow tie, John Smith takes something out of his pocket. A sonic screw driver appears from another pocket, and he starts to interfere with the console.

Callista takes time changing, knowing that the palm unit will warn her if the human damages anything. Although she doesn't want them, thoughts of her father invade, telling her that he could have solved it all so much better. He would have kept her away from Greg, told her that there were cybermen in that building, dealt with taking the human home. She, Callista, left him alone in the control room because she couldn't cope. Shouldn't exposure to the vortex have made her able to deal with this without breaking down like a stupid child? Of course not, the greatest tragedy of Gallifrey, that Time Lords sometimes go wrong. Callista wonders if she has gone wrong, out here alone without anyone to guide her, so far away from home. There is supposed to be years of study, meditation and reflection before you're even allowed to touch a TARDIS.

John Smith munches down on something not unlike a jammy dodger as he considers the mess Callista has made of her console. It's amazing she's lasted this long really. The loud whistle of the kettle causes him to jump, spraying crumbs everywhere. Popping the sonic screwdriver back into his pocket he closes up the console and attends to the tea. John Smith has become very, very good at making tea.

Re-entering the control room Callista finds the human making tea. She's mildly surprised to see that he's managed to find the milk but, then again, he's probably more used to caravan interiors than she is. She allows the human to usher her to the sofa and sit her down with tea and a small selection of her biscuits. It's odd, but he's not saying anything, humans usually talk all the time. All he does is pull up a footstool opposite Callista and drink his own tea, contemplating her over the rim of his mug. Callista contemplates John Smith back, marvelling at the intensity she picks up psychically.

"It's very rude to use psychic abilities on someone without their permission you know." Callista's teacup disintegrates on the floor. How? How could he know? Humans don't, they can't, even if they could they wouldn't be aware of it on a conscious level. John Smith continues to calmly regard her, a slight smile curling in one corner of his mouth. As he sips his tea Callista rushes to the console and does a full body scan of her passenger. The results come in and she reads them, white knuckles gripping the console for dear life.

Designation – The Doctor


	4. Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We learn a few things here.

Before Callista can react the Doctor has moved and trapped her between the console and his own body. Four heartbeats throb in the air between them as his eyes search her face. Callista can feel tears pricking behind her eyelids as he raises his hands to her head, still gazing intently into her eyes. His fingers are warm and dry and his thumbs stroke at Callista's temples briefly before settling in a firm hold. It won't hurt unless she struggles and Callista finds herself frozen. He wants to read her. The Doctor wants to look inside her head.

"Who are you?" he snarls, and the fingers on her head become tight as the Doctor's mind pushes against her own, seeking entry. He's not forcing it yet, but he can, and Callista thinks that he will. She falters, unable to speak, and all her barriers come crashing down. Reality dissolves to give way to her mind.

Somewhere, beyond her fear, Callista is embarrassed by the clutter. Older Time Lords were trained to keep their minds clear for exactly this but she's never had the training. Random thoughts mix with shopping lists and childhood memories. The awareness of her TARDIS glows quietly in one corner and the air is still filled with the sounds and scents of a cyber-factory. The Doctor stands in the middle with his hands over his hears, evidently trying to block out the assault. This would be the time to boot him out, but there's that fear again, causing mental and physical paralysis.

It takes hours, minutes, seconds, years and aeons but slowly, the Doctor disengages himself enough to recover. He can feel Callista's awareness lurking over him, watching every move but now so scared and exhausted that she's lost her will to fight. Quietly he wills a box to appear and puts the cyber-factory away inside it, shivering as he closes the door. It won't keep them in forever but they're manageable now. Adrenaline levels abate slightly and the Doctor straightens his bow tie, now more confident that they aren't going to have a heart attack. It's a risky move, jumping into someone else's head, but it almost always works.

"I'm sorry about that Callista, but you frightened me. Psychic probing looks a lot like an attack from the outside, and everyone I know who can probe without touch has turned out to be exceedingly dangerous. Or not who they said they were. And also dangerous. Can you form an avatar? It will make things much more manageable." Whilst talking the Doctor pulls a chair from his own head and sits down on it, the picture of relaxation.

"I can't." says Callista, the words reverberating through her own skull and almost knocking the Doctor and his chair over. "No one ever taught me how."

Sighing, the Doctor pulls something resembling a piece of paper from his pocket and begins to unfold it. As it opens a lesson wends its way into Callista's consciousness and takes shape. The paper disappears as she puts her new knowledge into action and materialises in front of the Doctor. The sensation of being herself inside her own mind is an odd one, but not unpleasant. The Doctor brings out a second chair and she sits, still thinking over the lesson, still learning. The acquisition of knowledge helps to soothe Callista and, almost without her knowing, a slither of trust forms between them. The Doctor alternates between watching her avatar and the general background of her mind. The Time Vortex runs through everything and tints it gold, telling him that Callista has looked into the Untempered Schism and embraced it like an old friend. No wonder she can pilot a TARDIS on her own at such a young age.

Shifting his glance back to Callista, the Doctor finds her eyeing him warily. They face each other in silence for a few moments and Callista finds herself wondering if this man really is as dangerous as the records lead her to believe. He looks so normal in his tweed and bow tie but a quick glance into his eyes tells a different story. They're old, his eyes, hard and tired and full of undisguised pain. She heard once that he has never stopped running from a war that follows him wherever he runs to. The Doctor drops her gaze and looks away and Callista realises that every thought she has here is projected upon her consciousness for him to see. There are no kind lies here, only truth.

Without looking at Callista the Doctor clears his throat and folds his hands into his lap. When he finally meets her gaze once more the pain is hidden behind an almost professional veneer, like a firm schoolteacher. He smiles affably and leans in to speak.

"How old are you?" he asks, slowly and deliberately, clinging on to his veneer of control.

"Fifteen, by Gallifreyan Standard Rotation. More by Earth Time." Callista answers in a monotone, better to tell the truth now than have it forced out later. Definitions of different galactic time zones dance around them and a birthdate that she tries to ignore wraps around her chest.

"How old were you when you looked into the Untempered Schism?" he asks more forcefully, his calm façade slipping somewhat. A new tension has appeared in his hands and jaw.

"Four and a half" admits Callista as she wishes that the Doctor would look away again because they both know how illegal that is. At least, how illegal that was. The justice system on Gallifrey seems irrelevant now their number one most wanted criminal is sat inside Callista's mind after making her tea in a TARDIS that she has no license for outside the time lock that she and said TARDIS are supposed to be inside. The Doctor's mouth quirks into a small smile as he follows her thought process.

"Number one eh? You'd have thought they had bigger things to worry about than catching little old me." He remarks bitterly "Like someone exposing their daughter to the whole of Time and Space four years earlier than is safe, or children piloting TARDIS's that don't belong to them."

"It does belong to me!" insisted Callista "It belonged to my family and I'm the only one left, so it's mine now. I didn't steal it, unlike some people." Anger gives her strength, how dare the Doctor lecture her about morals or comment on her upbringing? That infernal, bitter smile crosses the Doctor's face once more and Callista's anger loses steam as she realises that he's laughing at her. Slumping deep into her chair she goes back to just looking at him. She wants him out of her head and out of her ship. What he has done isn't just impolite, it's a violation and even Callista knows it.

Abruptly the Doctor stands and begins to wander around. He picks things up and looks at them and mutters to himself about talented children and being blind. Callista takes advantage of his distracted state and tries to conjure up a plan where he won't see it. The mumbling intensifies slightly when the Doctor opens a draw containing Callista's night with Greg and then shuts it with a wide eyed look of embarrassment. Something snaps deep with her mind and Callista's plan blossoms into life and begins to stalk the Doctor, hiding in his shadow as it takes form. It is brutal and will tell him far more than Callista wants him to know, but it's a she has. The plan falters for a second, growth halted, because the Doctor hasn't actually done anything to hurt Callista. She pushes the doubts away, he broke into her mind and asked personal questions. He destroyed Gallifrey. The plan grows and becomes complete and hovers above the preoccupied Doctor, waiting. Then it drops over the Doctor like a black shroud before billowing out to occupy Callista's whole mind.

~  
We are four and a half years old exactly today. We're sad because half birthdays don't get us presents but happy because we get to have tourmaline jelly for pudding. We're also happy because Mummy is back from The War and spending lots of time with us. She's spending more time with us than Delta Phi, our older brother, and that makes it even better. We even got to play games where we had to tell Mummy what she was thinking about. She thought about a nebula, an Andromedan Meta-Duck, a Jidoon and a Dalek, which scared us because we don't think it was supposed to be there and Mummy tried to hide it from us. Mummy is scared of Daleks and so is Daddy and all the other grown-ups. We've never seen a Dalek for real but we see pictures of them all the time on the news. Daddy doesn't want us to watch the news because it scares us but Mummy says we need to know what's happening to our home. We don't really understand.

We get bored of playing with the star maps and go and look for Mummy or Daddy or even Delta Phi. When we get close to the console room we can hear shouting so we sneak inside. Mummy and Daddy don't like us or Delta Phi being there when they shout about grown-up things but we want to listen. We're four and a half now, we need to know. When we peep over a railing we're shocked until we remember that Mummy regenerated. Her new face was scary at first but we're used to it now and she still feels the same inside. Daddy was very angry about that. He said a lot of things about "stupid risks" and "unnecessary danger" and stormed off to play chess against the interface. We always know to leave him alone when he goes to play chess, it means he's angry or sad or both. We hope the shouting doesn't mean that we have to run away again, we don't like travelling, it makes our head feel funny.

"She's too young," Daddy shouts, "We don't know what it could do to her, she could turn out so wrong!" his lips are pressed tight together and the TARDIS beeps and we know that's because it loves Daddy and doesn't like it when he's angry.

"It's out of our hands now Thereion, she's going to get more hurt without it. She says travelling makes her head hurt for Time's sake!" Mummy has a sound in her voice we haven't heard before. She must want this a lot. She almost never uses Daddy's big name either, she usually calls him Ion. This argument almost sounds as bad as the one after our big sister left to join the army. They both cried then and we were scared.

"The headaches are only going to get worse Ion," Mummy's voice is softer now, like when she wants me to eat my minerals "We don't have the luxury of a Time Council or an infirmary, we have to do this ourselves. Besides, soon the window to the Schism will close and then we've lost everything. Don't you see? It has to be now. The others were fine, she will be too. Plenty of children go through it younger than eight, you just don't hear about it."

"Don't start on that now Jorunei, I've heard enough about control tactics and propaganda to last a lifetime." Daddy has slumped like he does when he's lost and Mummy hugs him, tight, and tells him it's going to be okay. We've got scared because we're the only one under eight years old in this TARDIS, so they're talking about us. When we start to cry Daddy finds us and reads us a story and they both pretend to be happy. We don't want to be four and a half years old anymore.

After dinner and jelly Daddy holds us tight and Mummy and everyone else drive the TARDIS somewhere. We cuddle into Daddy and put our hands over our ears but it doesn't help. We feel like everyone is watching us. It's not a long trip though, which is good, and we think we're going outside because Delta Phi is told to get us into our coat. He doesn't even complain and is nice about it. We feel even more unsettled because when the doors open it's dark outside and everyone is coming, even Uncle Danavis and all our brothers and sisters. They're dressed funny. Mummy carries us and we like that because she hasn't done that since we were three. It's over too soon and she puts us down on some rocky ground. There's a funny feeling in the air and in our head and a funny looking window a little way away. It's a pretty window, all gold and swirly, and we want to see it more but Daddy blocks the way and they all say something to us in proper High Gallifreyan which we don't understand.

After ages Daddy moves out of the way and pushes us towards the pretty window without saying anything. Everyone seems so serious and we should ask why but all we want to do is go and look out of the pretty, swirly window. So we do. It goes forever, just swirling and golden and sometimes it changes colour slightly, and it tells us things that are older than the universe and we tell it about having tourmaline jelly for dinner, but it knows. It knows everything. Then it tells us what is coming and we are so scared but we know it isn't lying and when the first bolt of energy hits the ground and throws Uncle Danavis up into the air we don't even scream. Daddy picks us up and tries to cover our eyes but we've seen it all once already. They leave Uncle Danavis and start running for the TARDIS and when our biggest sister is hit it isn't a surprise.

Real Daleks are a lot scarier than in the news and we see one before Daddy shoves through the doors and into the control room. He runs to our bedroom and puts us under the bed, tell us not to move. We won't. We're so tired and the gold runs through our mind and we know what happens anyway. We don't want to sleep but we do.

When we wake up there are sirens screaming and the TARDIS is making a horrible noise and we can smell smoke. We wiggle out from under the bed and wonder why all the lights are red and flashing. We've never been in the TARDIS when it was like this before. We run to the control room and find it empty and when we check the life sign panel we see that only our little blue dot is here. We are alone. We run to the door and fling it open to see nothing but empty space going on forever and ever and ever. We can't see the familiar galactic formations or nebulas of home. Just space. We are alone.  
~


	5. Beached

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Naughty Doctor...

Someone is crying, their harsh and discordant sobs muted by the soft furnishings of the caravan control room. Callista and the Doctor are curled up, together, beneath the console. After a time Callista realises that she is the one crying and tries to stifle her sobs or to stand up and put some distance between herself and the man wrapped around her. The Doctor holds on tight, all the while telling her how sorry he is, how he never should have done it, how he would have found her had he known. He is so very sorry. Callista tries to move once more, becoming uncomfortable with how close they are and how he knows so much about her, yet she knows almost nothing about him.

The Doctors hands are knitted into Callista's hair so that when she tries to draw her head away the hair pulls and causes her to yelp in pain. This draws his focus up to her face and Callista thinks how close they are and how just one little movement could bring their lips together and they could… And nothing. The Doctor blinks at the elevation in Callista's heart rate and the involuntary shudder that escapes before any more thoughts of lips are pushed forcefully to the back of her head. Callista shouldn't have to remind herself that this is her enemy (holding her so close and so tight), a man who forced his way into her mind (and cried and was sorry when he saw what it held) and locked her (their) entire planet away where she could never reach her family (both of their families) ever again. Time and Space, why is the Doctor suddenly not the monster he appeared to be a day ago?

Still in Callista's hair the Doctor's hands loosen to cradle her head between his hands. Their eyes are locked and the gaze feels inescapable. They are trapped in possibility, hearts racing, breath shallow. The Doctor finally disentangles a hand and goes to push an errant strand out of Callista's face. As he touches her cheek reality comes crashing back with all the force if a supernova and she jerks away, banging her head on the console but quickly gaining her feet.

"What… what are you doing?" stutters Callista, moving around the control panel and away from the Doctor as fast as she can. She's still exhausted and her legs shake with effort but there is no way that he is going to be holding her like that again. He's the enemy.

"I'm not… I…" the Doctor tries to reply then shakes his head as if one small motion could clear and settle it "I don't know."

He stands and it's like watching something mechanical unfold from the floor, as if he understands the motions but not the reasons behind them. Callista's hand hovers over an imposing red button as she stares at the Doctor, daring him to come closer and see what she can do with one button. The Doctor straightens his bow tie and clears his throat.

"Callista, I-" At the casual use of her name Callista's hand jerks in surprise and she presses the button. The Doctor, his mind, his soul and his bow tie all disappear in a high-pitched squeak. Callista slumps down onto the soft carpet that smells like moss and tea and starts crying again. Today has been too hard.

~

"- didn't mean to scare…" The Doctor's voice trails off when he realises that he is no longer stood in the caravan control room. Long grass ripples in the wind as he takes in his surroundings. It is a barren field on a hill that appears to be in the middle of nowhere. It looks like Earth, but then again, lots of planets look like Earth. The Earth set-up has been "in" for quite a while now. If it is Earth, then where? When?

How?

As he pieces together the events of the last couple of minutes the Doctor's eyes widen and his mouth tenses into a hard line. He's been so stupid. Furious with himself he starts walking and hopes to find somewhere. Anywhere would be better than being alone with himself in a windy field in the middle of nowhere. Whilst walking he tries to piece together how Callista could have remained below his radar for so long. He is so lost in thought that he misses the familiar sound of his very own TARDIS turning up (perhaps muted because someone is driving without the brakes on) and plows straight into River as she moves to intercept him. They go down together in a surprised and indignant heap.

"Mmfmph get your elbow – yes, thank you. Right. Hello sweetie." River finally manages to say. This was not quite the entrance she was hoping for. Her Doctor is all out of sorts and adorably ruffled. River is about to dish out a cutting and oh so sexy remark but the Doctor covers her mouth with his own before she can even take a breath. This kiss isn't quite like any they've shared before. It is fierce and forceful, all tongues and teeth with a desperate passion. Quite suddenly the Doctor has rolled River over and onto her back without breaking their kiss for a single moment. River almost wants to pause and ask him where they're at and what's happened. Almost.

Pulling River's arms up above her head, the Doctor pins them there with a single hand whilst the other goes to work unfastening her dress. It's a simple zipper down the front and soon River is shivering slightly as the cold, hill top air drifts across her bare skin. She wants to reciprocate but the Doctor still has tight hold of her arms and is in no mood to let go. When River struggles he raises dark eyes to hers in warning and she goes still. The Doctor's mouth finds hers once again and this kiss is even more savage than the last. His teeth break the skin of her lips but the taste of blood only pushes him further. River knows now that this Doctor is an old Doctor, a man broken by circumstance and so, desperately lonely.

Cold, angry hands rip River's underwear to shreds and she gasps into the ongoing kiss. Growling back, the Doctor goes to work on his own trousers and violently discards them. River can feel him, hard and hot and throbbing against her leg. Breaking away from her mouth, the Doctor meets River's eyes once more and searches them for her consent. River feels a wave of tenderness that, even now, he would ask. He always asks. She nods and lifts her mouth back to his whilst opening her legs. This kiss is deeper and slower as the Doctor positions himself and pushes into River slowly but firmly. They moan together as he sheathes himself entirely and then begins to thrust.

Losing himself in River, the Doctor can almost forget his day and pretend at happiness. He lets his hands roam down her sides, one at a time, lets them cup her breasts all pricked with goosebumps. He lets his mouth consume hers as they kiss and moan in time with his thrusts. River is tightening around him, her sounds becoming more animal, and the Doctor feels their climax coming.

Before he can stop, the Doctor has sent a tendril of his mind towards River's, wanting to feel her feeling him. Strong barriers cut him off but his howl of anguish and frustration is lost in orgasm. Even as the Doctor spills himself inside his wife those two hearts are breaking. One day, in his future and her past, he will remember this and make barriers in River's mind. He will cut them both off from what it means to make love as Time Lords because they can never, ever afford to catch a glimpse of their futures. Collapsing on top of his wife, the Doctor turns his face away from River's and into her hair. Never let her see the pain.

~

When Callista eventually stops crying and picks herself up from the damp carpet, she notices something. Where before the Intergalactic Buffer was a blackened, ruined mess it is now all shiny and new. In fact, it's not the same Intergalactic Buffer at all. It has been replaced. The whole TARDIS is clicking and whirring with renewed vigor and itching to test out the new hardware. So he helped her? The Doctor? In between invading her brain and touching Callista like he cared, he fixed the TARDIS. Why?

Callista sets the TARDIS on course for The Library whilst simultaneously downloading every piece of information the universe has on the Doctor straight to her palm unit. There must be something, someone, out there who can tell her why.


	6. Learning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> River gets a visit.

Callista rushes in through the door of her TARDIS and locks it securely behind herself. Then she takes a moment to breathe. Library, bad. Full of hungry shadows. Probably shouldn't have stayed there after dark really. She dumps an armful of books, scrolls and data drives onto the small, formica table, and initiates the start-up sequence.

Despite the confrontation with the Vashta Nerada, she spends a good few days holed up the TARDIS with a cup of tea, researching everything she can on the Doctor. It makes for fascinating reading but is absolutely no help when it comes to Callista knowing if she can trust him or not. Doctor Who?

In his school days he had been known as Theta Sigma, which indicated that he was from a much higher class than Callista herself. One of his best friends in childhood had been the Master (whom Callista spends an afternoon reading about, and then has to put those books down before she starts crying) which doesn't bode well. He'd been friends with one of the evilest, most devious, psychopathic people that Gallifrey had ever produced. How can she reconcile that with his supposed image as a saviour of planets and peoples?

"To the people of the Gamma Forests, the word Doctor means Mighty Warrior…"

"Doctor – The word for Healer and Wise Man. We get that word from him. But if he had carried on, what might that word have come to mean?"

Callista flicks back to the title page of her current book. It's called "Doctor – Who?" and was written by none other than Professor River Song. It chronicles the Doctor's life right up until the events surrounding Lake Silencio in Utah, and his death there. That the Doctor had not died there had remained a mystery for a very long time, it seemed, though Callista has little access to the books that came after "Doctor – Who?". They're from beyond her timeline and, sadly, won't open for her.

After flicking through another book dealing with the Doctor's companions, Callista is even more lost. Accounts taken from them by Torchwood and UNIT show a great deal of devotion. At least they do where the accounts have been found. Several of these people never made it home to their families. It makes Callista feel better about what had happened with Greg, at least she hasn't killed him through her own stupidity.

Callista puts the last book down with a groan and stretches. As informative as it has all been, the new knowledge still hasn't helped her make up her mind. Her eyes flick over the now dog-eared copy of "Doctor – Who?". Surely it wouldn't hurt, going to see Professor River Song? She probably doesn't get all that many visitors after all. Dumping her cold tea into the small sink, Callista wanders out of the control room for a shower, humming to herself.

~

It is the highest security prison in the universe. The worst criminals from all over time and space locked away to contemplate their crimes in solitude with only the slightest possibility of release. It's embarrassingly easy to break in to. Callista hopes it will be just as easy to break out of when she's done. It was dangerous to come here but she has to speak to someone.

Doctor Song sits up in bed. It has been exactly twenty two minutes since the last guard walked past her cell. They are supposed to come every fifteen minutes and are irritatingly good at being on time. It is one of the rare days when rain isn't coming down in torrential sheets outside so they could just be making the most of the weather. Not likely. River wanders up to the bars of her cell and tries to peer down the corridor. Not a sausage. Wait. Something is moving in a shadowed doorway down the hall.

"Hello? It's not like you boys to go sneaking around…"

It's not easy to keep the anxiety out of her voice. The only visitor River ever gets is the Doctor, and he only comes at night. There are plenty of other people who would come though, given the right information, with all the wrong intentions.

The shadow moves out of the doorway and resolves into a girl. River starts breathing again because this is someone she recognises and actually rather likes. Not that Callista will know that yet. She's very young right now, very raw and so full of possibility.

"I haven't got long Doctor River Song, and you have some information that I desperately need, so please be co-operative" River almost laughs at the shaky resolve in Callista's voice. She is trying to be authoritative, which is sweet when the Doctor does it and positively adorable coming from Callista. Schooling her features into a stern mask, River replies in her very best serious voice.

"I understand. What do you need to know?"

Callista jerks in surprise at River's complete acceptance and readiness to comply. Perhaps she has sounded more compelling that she thought. Moving closer, Callista studies River Song through the bars. The Doctor's wife. River is still, trying not to frighten the girl, and Callista calms slightly.

"Why would he help me? The Doctor I mean? He fixed something for me and I don't know why. He should hate us… hate me. He does. Apparently you're from his future, you're his wife, you know everything there is to know about him. I read your first book but not the other two, they're in my future so I'm not allowed it and-" Callista gabbles, frightened. She is so relieved to finally be able to ask her questions that she has forgotten where she is, who she is, and who she is talking to. She shuts herself up and waits for River to answer.

"I write a book do I?" River asks, mischievously, and Callista puts her face in her hands "Oh don't worry! The Doctor makes far worse mistakes all the time. He told me what my next birthday present was the other night, silly man." Her tone is coaxing, and soon Callista starts looking at her again, slip up forgotten.

"Now, about your question. He's helping you because that is what he does. He's the Doctor, he helps people and occasionally fixes things. Callista, I know you're scared, but you need to trust him. He's not going to hurt you. As to why… Well, I think I'll let him explain that to you in his own time." River finishes and smiles reassuringly at a surprised Callista.

"You know my name?"

"We've been watching you for a little while now. The Doctor didn't know how to approach you so he's been keeping an eye on you in between other… projects" admits River, ruefully, making a mental note not to reveal any other spoilers to Callista before their due time and place. Really, her husband's bad habits are rubbing off on her. Well, just so long as they kept rubbing… Mentally slapping herself, River returns to the matter at hand.

The adolescent Time Lord looks lost, confused and is clearly fighting tears. Somewhere in the facility a siren begins to wail and angry voices echo up the corridor.

"Callista… It's time for you to go. You wouldn't like it here darling." River gently prods, waking Callista from her daze. Nodding mutely, Callista turns to leave. Just before disappearing back into the darkness she mumbles something.

"Thank you."

River feels the tell-tale breeze of time travel stir the air and takes a minute to savour it before the guards came crashing round the corner. They look honestly surprised to see the cell closed with River inside it.

"Too late boys. Hmmmm, you really must try harder next time, and I'll take my dinner now, thanks." Blowing them a kiss, River saunters back over to her bed and stares at the tiny patch of blue sky visible from her window. It really has been a beautiful day.

~

The Doctor stands in Central Park, New York, just looking at the place where he and the Ponds… He and the Williamses had their last picnic. He tries to stay away from this place, but the TARDIS brings him here, it's like she wants him to mourn. Why here though, when their graves are so close? The Doctor crushes that small, ember of hope and turns to leave.

He re-enters the abandoned pavilion and smiles. There is a caravan parked next to the police box and a teenaged girl with messy hair stood leaning against a pillar.

With a packet of Jammy Dodgers.

"Tea?"


End file.
